Dark Angel

You’re my dark angel. I know you, I do. I know everything. I can tell you’re not comfortable Unless imagining something dark. You like to say things that make my eyes pop. You don’t let anyone see you smile. I can’t see inside your soul like others. I think it’s because it’s so dark. I know I wouldn’t like to know what you think. But what do you? What would I see? Would it horrify me? I would help, if you would let me. Please, Dark Angel, I want to help. I want to help readjust your halo. And your wings. Just let me paint them white. That’s all I ask. But then, it wouldn’t be the same. I would miss your weird quirks. Is that so bad? Is it good? Is it great to be you, stuck in your own world? Or is it a Nightmare on Elm Street? Do you need to be awakened? I could help. Let me.

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Wow, this is really nice. I definitely like that wistful quality it has, and the picture completes the image of this poem. It is so beautifully dark, and I love how it sends shivers down my spine. Great job!